The Submarine Boys on Duty | Page 3

of all," suggested
Hal.
"Well, we'll camp right down here and go at the thing," almost
whispered Benson. "And, as this hotel is right at the water front, and
within two jumps of the boatyard, I guess we'd better stay here until we
get settled."
While the two chums were discussing the whole matter in eager, low
tones, a few things may be told about them that will make their present
situation clearer. Jack Benson, an only son, had been orphaned, three
years before, at the age of thirteen. With the vigor that he always
displayed, he had found a home and paid for his keep and schooling,
either by doing chores, or by working at various occupations in his
native seaport town of Oakport. He had kept at school up to a few
months before the opening of this narrative. With marked genius for
machinery, he had learned many things about the machinist's trade in
odd hours in one of the local shops. He was remarkably quick at
picking up new ideas, and had shown splendid, though untrained, talent
for making mechanical drawings.
Hal Hastings, of the same age, had a stepmother who did not regard
him kindly. Hal, too, had worked at odd jobs, almost fighting for his
schooling. His father, under the stepmother's influence, paid little heed
to his doings.
For two summers both boys had done fairly well working on yachts and
other boats around Oakport. Both had learned how to handle sail craft,

to run motors and small marine steam engines.
During the spring just passed Hal Hastings had worked much of his
time for an Oakport photographer who, at the beginning of summer,
had failed. Hal, with a considerable bill for unpaid services, had taken
some photographing material in settlement of his dues.
At the beginning of summer both boys decided that Oakport did not
offer sufficient opportunity for their ambitious hopes in life. So they
had determined to take Hal's newly acquired camera outfit and "tramp
it" from town to town, earning their living by photographing and all the
while keeping their eyes open for real chances in life. Both had some
money, carefully saved and hidden, from the previous summer's work,
so that in point of attire they presented a creditable appearance.
During these few weeks of tramping from place to place they had made
somewhat more money than their expenses had amounted to. Jack
Benson, who was the treasurer, carried their entire hoard in a roll of one
and two-dollar bills.
"I tell you, Hal Hastings," Jack now wound up, "this submarine torpedo
boat business is already a great field. It's going to be bigger and bigger,
for a lot of inventors are at work. If we can hustle our way into this
Dunhaven boatyard, we may be able to--"
"Earn a very good living, I guess," nodded Hal, thoughtfully.
"Earn a living?" sniffed Jack, rather scornfully. "Hal, I've got faith
enough in both of us to believe that we could make our fortunes in a
few years. Look at some of the poor young men who had sense enough
to get into the automobile business early. The prizes go to the fellows
who get into a field early and have ability enough to build up
reputations."
Jabez Holt came out upon the porch at this moment.
"Still here?" he asked, looking at the boys.

"We're going to be here a little while, I guess, if it's agreeable to you,
Mr. Holt," Jack answered; with a smile.
"What d'ye mean? I don't want no tin-types taken."
"We haven't asked you to have any photos made, Mr. Holt," Benson ran
on. "We're just talking about becoming guests here."
"For twenty-four hours," supplied Hal Hastings.
"For at least two days," Jack amended.
"But, see here," explained Landlord Holt. "Rates here are two dollars a
day. If ye hain't got no other baggage I'll have ter look into them
camera boxes before I take 'em as security for board."
"You can't have them as security, Mr. Holt," Jack laughed. "I'm going
to pay our charges two days in advance. For two persons it's eight
dollars, isn't it?"
Then young Benson carelessly produced the young partners' roll of
banknotes. He quickly counted off eight dollars, handing the money to
Mr. Holt.
"Come right in an' register," said Landlord Holt, springing up and
leading the way. The hotel sometimes prospered when yacht owners or
boat designers came this way, but at any season eight dollars were eight
dollars. The boys were now in high standing with their host. When
matters had been settled in the office Holt led them to the wash room.
Here the young men dusted themselves off, washed, polished their own
shoes, donned clean collars and cuffs, and, altogether, speedily made
themselves so tidy that